


Fictober 2019

by CuriousThimble



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Antivan Crows, Blushing Alistair (Dragon Age), Circle Mage - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mages (Dragon Age), Marriage Proposal, Rejection, Romance, Templar Cruelty, Templars, The Wrong Warden Prequel, anders escapes, fictober19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: A collection of short stories from the Fictober event on Tumblr.-Multiple pairings, timelines, ships, etc. There's a little bit for everyone coming.-To make sure you catch the chapters with your favorite characters, please see the index below! This will be updated daily as more chapters are posted.Chapters featuring:Female Amell, Mage Origin and DAO: (in order) 1, 2, 5, 10, 11, 15, 14, 19, 20, 30Zevran, Fem Tabris: 3, 8, 13, 16, 22Hera (OC), Connected to The Wrong Warden (out of order): 4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 20, 21, 28 (also features Alistair and Zevran), 29, 31Anders x FemHawke, Bethany, Carver- 17, 25, 26, 27Dorian, Inquisitor Grace Trevelyan, Leo- 18, 23, 24





	1. It Will Be Fun, Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Karl try to rope Evette into mischief.

Evette hesitated, pulling her gloved hand away from Karl’s. “I...I don’t know,” she whispered, glancing around.

Karl gave her his most charming smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her in a hushed voice. “All the Senior Enchanters are asleep.”

  
“Karl, what if-”

“Anders took care of the templars,” he added. “Come on, Vette, it’ll be fun, trust me.”

“Trust you,” she said with a smirk. “Last time I trusted you two, I-”

  
  
“Vette! You came!” Anders’ whisper was probably louder than he intended, but the warm smile he gave her made her heart leap. “Maker’s breath, you’re pretty tonight,” he added, coming over and kissing her cold cheek. “And refreshingly cool, too!”

“You’re drunk!” she accused, gasping in gleeful shock. “You devil!”

“Hush,” he giggled, drawing out the sound and covering his mouth with a finger. “Don’t want anyone to find us.”

Evette looked from Karl to Anders with one eyebrow raised. “Why did you want me here?” she asked. “To cool your wine?”

“Nah, it’s already pretty cold,” Anders said, showing her his cup of white wine. 

“We brought you to _ plan, _” Karl explained, settling himself on an old chair covered with a sheet. 

The dungeons were rumored to be haunted, but Evette was starting to realize that the Circle held more drunken apprentices in its depths than ghosts. Karl had dragged her out of bed and all the way down here to the damp, crumbling dungeons to _ plan _? “Plan what?” she asked, pulling her long braid over her shoulder nervously.

“Our escape,” Anders said confidently, sprawled across a sheet-covered sofa like some golden poet in an Orlesian sitting room. He patted the small space next to him invitingly, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite make her cool cheeks warm with a blush.

“You’re planning _ another _ one?” she asks, sliding into the spot- and consequently, into his embrace.

“Yes!” Karl says, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile.

“Why? It didn’t work last time.”

  
Anders toyed with a stray lock of hair resting against her throat. “Well, Vette...This time it _ will, _” he promises. “Because we’re taking you with us.”


	2. Follow Me, I Know the Area

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evette sacrifices the promise of freedom so that Anders and Karl can escape.

“You have to go,” Evette pleaded, her heart racing. “Anders,  _ go!” _

“No, not without you!” He grabbed her arm, intent on dragging her if he had to, but she pulled away. 

“Anders, please,” she begged. In her panic, frost crept along the sleeves of her robes, thickest at her gloves. “Go, you have to go!”

The templars were coming, she could hear voices echoing off the stone walls. Karl had led them through the dungeons until they found an old, rusted grate that led through the kitchen midden and the docks- where they’d found a merchant ship waiting to smuggle them out.

“They’ve heard us,” she tells him, desperately pushing him toward the ship. The sound of a templar shouting echoed ominously. “They have to find  _ someone _ , Anders. Please go. Take Karl and go.”

Anders caught her hands and pulled her close, giving her the warmest embrace of her young life. “Thank you,” he whispers, his mouth brushing over her own. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

“Don’t.”

They parted, a beautiful blonde boy running for a ship and freedom, an icy black-haired girl throwing herself back through the hole to the dungeons. Evette was glad she was already filthy, it would make whatever story she told a little more believable. Heart racing in fear, she let her panic run free, sending ice splintering through her gloves and coating the walls beside her as she ran toward the sound of templars.

“Help me!” she begged as soon as their torches came into view. “Please, help me, I’ve been-”

The cleansing hit her like a boot to the gut. Evette doubled over, gasping in pain as the unbearable light and heat rolled off the pair. Her chest tightened as her magic drained away, leaving her utterly defenseless. The heat that other mages described was like a brand to one born with ice in their veins, forcing her to her knees and making spots dance in her vision.

“Help,” she repeated weakly, swaying.

A young man- a new one named Rutherford- hurried over, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded, sheathing his sword.

She looked up into warm amber eyes and swallowed thickly. “Lost,” she explains. 

“Here, drink this,” the other templar said, coming closer and handing her his waterskin. It was Vincent Calloway, one of Anders’ tormentors. If Vincent was involved, things could get ugly quickly.

She took a long drink, but it wasn’t water. Instead, her throat burned with whiskey, making her choke and cough and him laugh.  _ Vincent’s always been a bastard, _ she thought, pushing the skin away with a scowl as he laughed. 

“Amell, what are you doing down here? Isn’t your harrowing soon?” he asked, hands on his hips.

“I-I wanted somewhere big and empty to practice,” she lied, her eyes wide and innocent. “Sometime before dinner, but I got lost.”

“The first time you leave the damn library and you get yourself lost down here,” he snarled, grabbing her arm so hard there’ll be bruises in the morning. “You came alone?”

She yelped in pain and tore her arm out of his grasp. “Yes!”

“Are you hurt?” Rutherford asked, helping her to her feet. He was young, handsome, and looked almost as terrified as she felt. “I didn’t mean to cleanse you without warning.”

“Sure you did, Rutherford,” Vincent laughed. The young templar turned a bright red, making Evette wonder if it was the accident he claimed or if Vincent was telling the truth. “You’ve been itching to try it since we taught you how. You’re fine, though, aren’t you girl?” 

_ I’d love nothing more than to freeze him to death right now, _ she thinks venomously, glaring at them. “Fine.”

“See? I told you that pretty face would help,” Vincent laughs and Rutherford turns a deeper shade of scarlet. “If  _ this _ bitch will lie to make you feel better, I wonder what she’ll do for  _ me? _ ” he asked cruelly, licking his lips.

He walked her backward until she was pressed against the wall, fear and anger swelling in her chest. Vincent ran an overly familiar hand up her ribcage, a perverse grin sliding across his face. “Want to make me feel better, Amell?” 

_ I should have risked it with Anders and Karl. _

“I’d rather be drowned in dwarven ale,” she snapped, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as weak and trembling as her knees feel.

She winced and closes her eyes, expecting the blow promised by his pulled-back hand, but it never landed. Opening one eye, Rutherford held his comrade’s arm with a confused expression.

“Ser, I heard something,” he said. “Sounds like another mage down here. Do you want to take a look? I’ll escort her back into the tower.”

Vincent growls at him and turns on his heel. “Fine. The blonde one’s been missing, too. Maybe I’ll finally get that promotion if I catch him this time.”

Evette tries not to cower as Rutherford turns to her again.  _ What’s he going to do? _ She wondered, desperately searching herself for any wisp of magic. “I...You- you don’t want m-me,” she stammers, backing away. “I’m c-cold to the t-t-touch.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he assures her. “Come on, let’s go back upstairs.”

“But-”

“I’ve done patrol down here for a solid week,” he adds with a nervous smile. “We won’t get lost, just follow me, I know the area.”


	3. Now? Now You Listen To Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all their time together, Tabris betrays Zevran to the Antivan Crows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3! I started my Zev/Tabris fic last year during this event, so it only makes sense to throw in a little more! If you like this, check out Birds of a Feather here on Ao3.

Zevran scowled across the room at Tabris. “ _ Amora, _ ” he croaked, straining against his bonds. “No.”

“I’m sorry, Zev,” she said lightly, a slow, seductive smile on her lips. “The Crows made me a better offer. It’s just business,  _ Tesoro. _ ”

“ _ Tesoro, _ eh?” Bastien laughed, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her close. “How cute.”

“Don’t dance on a man’s grave, Bastien,” Tabris murmured, nipping his earlobe. “We had a bargain.”

The Crow laughed and tossed a purse on the table with a heavy  _ thud. _ “Your whore is a greedy one, isn’t she, Zevran?” he asked.

“Kallian, how could you?” Zevran asked.

Tabris peeled herself off Bastien, and only Zevran saw the grimace of distaste she tried to hide. “You’re the one who kept telling me to take what I could and go, aren’t you?” she asked, picking up the purse and dropping it into the bag she wore on her hip. “Well, that’s what I’m doing- taking the money and running.”

“ _ Now? _ ” he laughed bitterly. “All this time I’ve been telling you, and  _ now _ you listen to me?”

“Bitter draught, isn’t it, Zev?” Bastien laughed, grabbing Tabris’ wrist. “Now, as for the other half of our deal…” he growled hungrily.

Tabris used the moment to unbuckle and drop his sword belt to the floor, followed by several daggers she found on him. Her light giggle sounded playful, but Zevran heard the anxiety of being so close to a man she didn’t trust.  _ I am sorry, amora, _ he thought, knowing how much she hated to be touched by men.  _ I swear I will hold you through every nightmare. _

“Bastien... in front of him?” she asked, pulling back. “Isn’t that...I don’t know, cruel?”

“Why not? I heard he liked watching.” Zevran’s old competitor gave him a wolfish grin. “I want him to know he’s lost  _ everything. _ ”

“Well…” Tabris drawled, giving her lover a knowing look.

  
It was Zevran’s turn to chuckle as Bastien’s chin jerked up, the tip of her dagger jabbing the tender skin underneath. “Not  _ everything, _ ” she informed him. “Just another former comrade.”


	4. I Know You Didn't Ask For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a prequel to The Wrong Warden, Hera has doubts before she's crowned.

Hera slipped the heavy silk and velvet dressing gown over her shoulders, glancing back to be sure Jamison still slept peacefully. Silently, she padded across the room and opened the glass doors to the balcony, letting the cool night air stir her hair.  _ I wish Mother were here to see this, _ she thought sadly, gazing up at the full moon. Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled, but the little town nestled against the castle was safely locked up for the night.

For now, the ghosts and horrors of Ravenloft slept. Their leader was dead and, while Hera was their conqueror, she was not yet crowned and had little power over them.

That would all change tomorrow night.

_ And I have to figure out how to be a queen, _ she thought, frowning.  _ I don’t know anything about actually taking care of people- not this way. My business has always been sex and desire; these poor people look to me to lead them and the only path I know leads to the bedroom. _

“You should be sleeping.”

Lanky, warm arms slide under her arms, one hand cupping her breast as the other slid over her hip. Hera grinned, feeling his scruff scrape against her neck. “So should you,” she said softly, leaning against him.

“Sleep is wasteful when there’s a woman to be had,” he chuckled against her throat, nipping the tender skin. She caught her breath on a laugh, turning in his arms to face him. “Oh, I like this better,” he told her, cupping her backside with both hands. “I like having two whole handfuls. Come back to bed Bits, I’ll ease your worries.” 

“Oh?” she asked, running her hands over his chest. “Do you plan to stay and be my official consort, then?”

“Aw, come on, Bits,” he scoffed, nuzzling her robe aside as his lips trailed over her collarbone. “You know I’m not staying. Not long, anyway.”

With a practiced, graceful shrug, the robe slid off her shoulder, revealing the same breast he’d been fondling moments before. “A queen has many worries,” she told him, arching her back. “ _ Someone _ will need to ease my worries.”

“Are you afraid, then?” he asked, lifting his head and looking at her in surprise. “Look, Bits, I know you didn’t ask for this, but-”

Hera’s kiss silenced him; she didn’t want to hear any more assurances. “Jamison,” she purred, stepping back until they were leaning against the balcony railing. “Shut up.”

He swallowed thickly as her robe parted, falling to hang on her elbows. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, please check out The Wrong Warden, where Hera is transported to Ferelden during the Blight.


	5. I Just Might Kiss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair can't help falling over himself for Evette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5, readers! I thought this was a sweet little scene that I originally had planned to go into Cold Hands, Warm Heart, but felt that making it long enough would only drag it out and make it boring. When I saw today's prompt I knew this scene was perfect for it! I hope you enjoy!

Evette smiled shyly, keeping her head bowed and hands clasped serenely in her lap. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Alistair’s chest tightened as he knelt beside her, bowing his head before Andraste. She was so pretty in the candlelight, her voice as soft as snowfall and her hair tumbling down her back. “I...uh…” he stammered, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. 

“Alistair?” she whispered, silver eyes glancing up at him before moving back to her hands, the picture of piety. “There was something you wanted?”

“I just…”

Mother Hannah caught them whispering, glaring right at the Grey Wardens while she read from the Chant. With a little giggle, Evette lowered her head further, letting her hair shield her from the woman’s hawkish gaze. Alistair almost wished  _ he  _ could hide behind her hair, too.

“You just what?” she whispered.

“How long will this last?” he asked. After spending the night battling the undead and the day planning with Teagan and Ser Perth, he was amazed that she could sit through the chantry service that Mother Hannah had suggested to thank Andraste for their salvation. He’d clattered in just moments ago and was already having trouble staying awake listening to the chantry mother’s flat voice.

“Shouldn’t be long now, why?”

“I wanted...I might…”  _ Maker’s breath, _ he thought, grinding his teeth. “I wanted to make sure you make it back to camp,” he lied.

Another soft laugh from behind the curtain of her hair, accentuated by a slight chill radiating off her. Was she nervous? Upset at the thought of him escorting her back to camp? “Do you think there are still monsters out to get me?” she laughed. “Will something horrible happen?”

  
_ Well, I just might kiss you- would that be something horrible? _ he wondered, wishing he had the courage to say it, but every time he thought about it, the words slid down his throat. “That’s what I’m here for,” he joked, “to make sure nothing happens to the Circle’s rising star.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more Alistair and Evette, see Cold Hands, Warm Heart!


	6. Yes, I'm Aware. Your point?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Ravenloft, Hera deals with a greedy noble during troubled times.

Hera grits her teeth and reminds herself not to bang her head onto the desk.  _ Duncle says it’s uncouth, _ Zeus has teased last time, rubbing the spot it left on her forehead.  _ And you have such a pretty forehead. _

“My dear Count,” she says with a smile. “You are aware that this evening is the ball, yes? The one celebrating my triumph over the dictator that kept you locked out of our lovely dark realm? It’s been five years now,” she adds.

Count Maurice sniffs, his large nose scrunching up comically. In truth, everything about Maurice was comical- his outrageously curly hair magically bleached to blondeness, thick lips and a mouth too large for his face, not to mention a rather unfortunate sense of style. He was, as Zeus put it, far too sad to be a clown yet always good for a mean-spirited giggle. “Yes, I’m even attending, your Majesty, but this is-”

“Then would you kindly find the end of this yarn?” she asks, her tone sharper than she intended. Her back was aching from sitting at her desk much of the day- the great hall and her throne were under Zeus’ command as he prepared for a grand ball to celebrate both her royal anniversary and their birthday- and she desperately wanted something stronger than a cup of tea.

His nostrils flare, reminding Hera of times when she and Morrigan frustrated Wynne to the point of exasperation.  _ For all her lecturing, Wynne was never so long-winded as Maurice. _ “There are peasants hunting my lands!” he snaps, smacking the corner of her desk.

Hera raises an eyebrow slowly, her gaze moving from the smudge left on the polished surface to his outraged, furiously red face. She’d never liked the Count, or the rumors of conspiracy that had surrounded him since she first came to power.  _ Perhaps this is the chance to get rid of him, _ she speculated, letting him grow uncomfortable under her blatant stare.

“Yes,” she says slowly, lowering her eyes to the report in front of her. “I’m aware. Your point?”

“It is  _ my _ estate and-”

“You are incorrect, Count Maurice.” Her eyes are daggers when she looks back to him, her tone like marble. “It is  _ my _ estate, left in  _ your _ care as the fog recedes and we gain more of Ravenloft’s original lands.” She speaks slowly, each word slicing into him until the red flush drains from his face, leaving him gray and fearful. “And it has been a difficult harvest, has it not? The summer was far warmer than we are used to, there was less rain.”

The Count swallows hard and nods. “But  _ Majesty, _ how I am to feed my household if-”

“The same as everyone else,” she says smoothly. “Empty your coffers.”

He looks away, embarrassed. “They are nearly empty already.”   
  


With a nod, Hera lifts the report to show him just how much she knows of his finances. “I know. You’ve spent nearly every copper you made last year on new clothing and a new carriage. I have invested my own funds rather heavily into the economy of Ravenloft, my lord, to see that my people are fed. I house and clothe and feed them. I send them to Sigil for education and employment. I  _ save _ for years like this, so that I may purchase food and essentials for the villages that fare the worst. Even tonight’s ball is paid for by the profits of my own business in Sigil and not the royal treasury.”

The Count sighs, his heavy shoulders sinking and his head bowing. “You shame me, Most Beautiful.”

“Yes, I do,” she says primly, knocking on the desk to get his attention. “And you certainly deserve it. Go home, Maurice,” she adds, a little kinder. “Take stock of your assets and then write to my uncle the Duke. We will work out a payment to see you and your village through the winter.”

The idea jerks his head up, his mouth gaping in shock. “You want me to  _ pawn _ my family’s things?!” he cries.

Hera gives him a small smile and shrugs. “My lord, I have sold far more than a family’s jewels in order to do what was right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! It's a scene that may appear in later chapters of The Wrong Warden.


	7. No, And That's Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera offers Teagan everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a possible segment from future chapters of The Wrong Warden.

Hera’s mouth fell open as she stared at Teagan. “No?” she repeated, blinking rapidly. 

He nodded, trying to swallow the instant regret flooding him. “No,” he said slowly, gathering his courage. 

“And...And that’s  _ final _ ? You’re saying no to a  _ marriage proposal _ ?” 

“I’m afraid so, Hera,” he answered.

“You’re crazy,” she accused, sitting back and making no effort to rein in her shock. “Teagan, I’m offering you...well, everything. And you say no?”

Teagan reached out and took her hand from her lap, stroking his thumb over skin so smooth you’d never guess she wielded a sword better than most knights he knew. “How can I accept?” he asked, not meeting her eyes. 

“By saying  _ Yes, Hera _ ,” she said, pitching her voice low to imitate him. “ _ Of course I’ll marry you _ .”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “My lady...there is so much I want to say…” Taking a deep breath, he looks up at her finally. “But I cannot, in good faith, accept your proposal.”

She pulled her hand away with an indignant sniff, beautiful and frustrated. “Why not?”

“Because…”  _ My nephew is still desperately in love with you, he thought. Because as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, I know you are still desperately in love with him, as well. _

_ Because saying yes would make me happy, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t make you happy. _

_ Because one day you’ll find this mythical doorway and walk away from my life- and that I could not survive. _

“Because one day you’ll realize that what you’re asking is impossible,” he said gently. “And you’d hate me for it.”

Hera stood and stomped over to the window, twitching the drapes out of the way so she can look down on the street. “You’re an idiot,” she sighed.

“Hera, if I thought this was truly what you wanted, I’d say yes in a heartbeat,” he assured her, putting a hand over his heart. “But it isn’t and you know it. Alistair-”

Hera waved a hand to cut him off. “Don’t bring him into this,” she muttered. “Just another damned Ferelden who also didn’t want to marry me.”

“Why are you suddenly so eager to be married, anyway? Are you...in a motherly way?” he asked delicately. “Is it a matter of honor?”

“Honor?” Her laugh is short and bitter. “As if there’s any left for a woman like me. It’s a matter of-” she stopped and pressed her lips together. “It’s nothing. Nevermind. We were leaving for the opera, weren’t we? We should go, we’ll be late.”

Teagan caught her hand as she breezed by him. “Hera…”

Her smile dazzled him, and if they hadn’t just had the most uncomfortable conversation in Thedas, he’d had believed it was real. 

“No harm done, my dear bann,” she assured him. “Nothing between us has changed, I promise.”


	8. Can You Stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tabris asks him to stay with her, Zevran struggles to find the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is connected to my series Birds of A Feather, here on Ao3. If you like this, check out the series for more!

“Well, I suppose it is time to wake Oghren and get a little sleep.”

Kallian catches his arm as he moves to stand. “Zev,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

“For what, dear Warden?” he whispers, stroking her cheek.

“For…” She ducks her head, toying with the end of a braid. “For helping me.” She’d had another nightmare while he was on watch and woke up screaming; Zevran had bundled her in her blanket and brought her into the cool night air, where he soothed and comforted her until the fear passed. The archdemon had begun creeping into the Grey Wardens’ sleep for almost a week now, and while Alistair was able to conceal his horror, she...wasn’t.

Pity- or was it concern?- flitted across his features. “Oh my Warden…” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “Would that I could do more than wake you. I will wake Oghren and see you back to bed,  _ amora. _ ”

She nodded, dozing by the fire until he picked her up and carried her back into her tent. He tucked her into her bedroll, adding his own cloak over her for warmth and brushing her hair off her face. “May you have sweeter dreams this time, lovely Warden.”

“Zev,” she murmured, clasping his hand to her chest. “Stay.”

Zevran paused, turning her words over in his mind.  _ Can you stay? _ He asked himself.  _ Is that something you can do, Zevran? Be here for her when she needs you...protect her from nightmares...Are you good enough for such a task? _

“I... _ Amora, _ you do not need me,” he joked softly.

Drifting closer to sleep, she stubbornly clutched his hand. “Stay.”

  
_ You do not know what you ask, Kallian, _ he thought, settling beside her. “Just for a little while.”


	9. There is a Certain Taste to It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fleeing Hera's broken heart, Zevran tries to cheer her up with a meal.

“Come,  _ amora, _ ” Zevran said, leading her from the docks and into the city. “We should get some fresh food in your belly.”

Hera followed him blindly, not even bothering to take in the marvel that was Val Royeaux. “If you say so,” she sighed, ducking her head.

They had been at sea for weeks, taking a long, ambling route to Orlais by way of every port in the Free Marches. She had promised herself to put aside her grief when they arrived, but now that they were actually  _ here _ , she seemed too deeply mired in it to climb out.

Sensing her thoughts, Zevran took her arm gently. “Majesty,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I promised to protect and care for you, and I say you need something fresh and not served in a galley. Now come, here is a pretty cafe waiting just for you.”

She managed a snort. “I’m afraid the days of private dining in a public place are over for me.”

“Nonsense,” he said matter-of-factly. “You will be as famous here as you ever were in your homeland. And we will use the power that comes from such fame to gather the finest minds of Thedas and discover a way home.”

Entering the open-air cafe, he waved to a server and ordered for them both confidently. “Add a nice Antivan wine,” he added, putting a gold coin in the man’s palm. “The bottle.”

She dropped her bags gratefully and sank into a chair. “Zev, do you really think we can do it?” she asked. “When we left Denerim, I thought so, but now-”

“Look at you,” he said, waving a hand to passers-by trying not to stare. “Filthy and travel-worn, yet every person passing cannot take their eyes off you.” He paused as their food arrived. “This is merely the first meal of your new life.”

Hera stared down at it, poached eggs swimming in cream sauce and garnished with minced chives, a hearty slice of ham, fresh bread with a flaky crust, golden butter, and a cool white wine against the summer’s heat. 

“Eat,” he urged. “There is a certain taste to Orlesian ham; they say it tastes of despair here.”

“Despair? That’s a familiar flavor,” she said sadly, cutting into it and trying a small piece. “Damn me to seven hells!” she cried, eyes wide with surprise. “It  _ does!” _

Zevran nods, dipping a crust of bread into the yolk of his eggs. “They say it is cured near a place where the Veil is thin, that’s what gives it such a unique flavor.”


	10. Listen, I Can't Explain This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Evette helped Anders and Karl escape, one of them has been returned to the Circle.

Evette watched in cold horror when Anders was dragged through the corridors, the chains on his wrists and ankles clanking loud enough to drown out First Enchanter Irving’s lecture. Like the other students in the class, she was drawn to the door, peering out as Vincent and Greagoir lead him like a dog, crawling on hands and knees with his head hanging.

“Oh Maker,” she breathed, leaning against the door frame. “Anders.”

“Do you know him, Evette?” Jowan asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Evette pulled her eyes away from the bleeding, shuddering wretch passing by and turned to look at him. “Yes,” she said.

“What- _ really _?” he asked, pulling her away and into the corner. “I didn’t think you talked to anyone but me.”

“Don’t touch me,” she reminds him as the hand grabbing her arm was covered in frost.

“Ow! Damn, Evette, do you have to do that?” he muttered.

“Of _ course _ I talk to people, you dolt.”

“Apprentices, back to your desks, please,” Irving said stoically. Evette noticed that he never actually looked to the door to see what was happening- he must have known, which meant Greagoir had planned the spectacle to take place when there would be the most apprentices to see.

Obediently, Evette returned to her desk, ignoring Jowan for the remainder of the lecture. “Evette, could you stay a moment?” Enchanter Irving asked as the others filed out. “I won’t keep you long.”

“Yes, First Enchanter,” she said softly, keeping her silver eyes down. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Oh no,” he assured her, leaning back against his desk. “I know there have been rumors about your harrowing,” he began.

Evette looked up, nodding as her stomach flipped. “Yes, sir, there has.”

“Well, put your mind at ease, Miss Amelle,” he said cheerfully. “You’re only sixteen-”

“I’m seventeen, sir,” she corrected. “Last week.”

He chuckled and raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “Forgive me, you’re only _ seven _teen,” he amended. “Focus on your studies and it will happen when you’re ready. Not a moment before.”

Relief flooded her for a moment. Evette nodded and almost turned to go. “First Enchanter?”

“Hm?”

Clutching her book to her chest, she kept her voice cool and even to hide her nervousness. “You didn’t even come to the door when Anders was returned. You knew he was coming back today, and you didn’t stop them.”

For a moment, the old man looks as if he would argue, but then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, I did not.”

Steeling herself for her next question, she raised her chin a fraction and fixed him with her unsettling silver eyes. She knew that her gaze often made people uncomfortable- today she would use it to her advantage. “Why not? It was cruel to allow a harrowed mage to be dragged through the tower that way.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Listen, Evette,” he said slowly, “I can’t explain this in any way you will truly understand-”

“Try, First Enchanter,” she urged, hoping he couldn’t hear the desperation in her voice. If the First Enchanter of the Circle wouldn’t save one of his own from such treatment, what could she expect of the rest of the world?

The lines carved into his face became deeper. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to trust me. It seems unkind now, but one day you’ll understand.”

  
Staring at him, Evette felt a cold knot form in her belly. _ No, _ she thought, _ I don’t think I ever will. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For More Evette, see my series Cold Hands, Warm Heart


	11. It's Not Always Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Evette and Jowan bicker, she takes a private moment in the chapel- where she's interrupted again.

Anders was...different when he was brought back from solitary confinement. It broke Evette’s heart to see him sitting in the library or the infirmary, blanking staring in front of him as if he couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t made tranquil- thank the Maker- but at times he seemed to just drift away and leave his body.

Karl wasn’t brought back with him. Anders wouldn’t even say if he got away or was captured and taken somewhere else. Whenever Evette asked about it he just pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head.

“That’s the one always trying to get out, isn’t it?”

“Hush, Jowan,” Evette scolded softly as they passed by Anders in the library, Wynne leaning over his shoulder to show him something in a book. Evette waved and tried to smile at Anders, but he only blinked at her.

“I like his determination, but his attitude isn’t right,” Jowan goes on, ignoring the icy glare Evette gives him. “Whenever he gets caught and brought back, he just starts plotting all over again.”

“Jowan-”

“He should be plotting how to make sure he doesn’t get caught. Maybe he needs to make sure his phylactery is destroyed.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why you talk to him anyway, look at him, he’s-”

“Jowan,  _ shut up! _ ” she snapped, her voice as sharp as the snap of a branch breaking from the weight of snow. “You don’t know  _ anything _ about it, do you? You’ve lived here your whole life and you never pay attention to anyone else. If you did, you’d know it’s not always like this; they did something to him.”

“Put him in solitary confinement for six months,” he explained. “Just like any other mage caught trying to escape. Speaking of which- I know the templars caught you playing in the dungeon the same night he escaped,” Jowan said, lowering his voice. His discretion didn’t hide the devious glint in his eye and it set Evette on edge. “Rutherford hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since- what did you do to him?”

Evette glanced over her shoulder as they sat down at a long table in the elemental magic section. Sure enough, the young recruit had stationed himself at the door the library- putting her in his direct line of sight if she tried to leave by either entrance.

“I didn’t do anything,” she whispered, leaning her head over her notes.

“I think he likes you,” Jowan whispered back. “You should pursue that, there are worse things than a templar as your lover.”

Pushing her curls over her shoulder, she snatched up her notes and stood. “I can’t deal with this today,” she muttered. “I heard my harrowing might be soon, and I need to focus.”

“They’ve been saying that for six months,” he laughed. “You’re nowhere near ready.”

With an icy sniff, she left, passing by Cullen as she left. 

“Amell-” he said, following. “Evette.”

With a deep breath and a personal reminder to be patient, she turned with a cool smile. “Yes, Cullen?”

He blushed at her use of his name; part of her wished that  _ she _ blushed, but there was too much ice in her veins for that sort of thing. “I...Could we walk? Together, I mean.”

“I was just going to the chapel,” she said, letting him walk alongside her. “It’s usually quiet this time of day.”

“Oh? I like the chapel, it’s very…” he searches for a word, his face going soft and blank for a moment. “Clean.”

She arches a brow. “Clean? I suppose so,” she says, almost laughing.

“Could I sit with you a while?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh, I'm not SUPER happy with this one, but it is what it is.


	12. What if I don't see it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair shows Hera the stars of Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sweet bit of fluff that won't make it into The Wrong Warden, but I hope you enjoy!

Hera laughed, sliding down a steep hill made slick by gold and orange autumn leaves. “Alistair, where are we going?” she asked, coming to a stop at his feet. “If I’d known you were going to drag me all the way out here, I’d have brought my gear.”

“Come on,” he insisted, pulling her to her feet. “I have something to show you.”

With a sultry laugh, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his jaw. “You didn’t have to pull me out of camp for that,” she murmurs.

His answering chuckle wavers as he pushes her away to arm’s length. “Not that- well, yes  _ that _ ,” he amends, “but later.”

She gives him an indulgent smile, her stomach full of ridiculous butterflies at his boyish enthusiasm. “And what is it you want to show me, alone out here in the woods in the dark?”

He picks up his backpack and takes her hand. “The top of the next hill, and you’ll see, I promise.”

He leads her up a faint path, his lamp casting a warm glow in the chilly autumn night. When they reach the top, he puts his hands on her shoulders and turns her west.

"There's camp," he says, pointing to a dot of flame in the distance. Hera's unnatural vision shows her Leliana's profile clearly as she strums her lute and sings while Zevran stirs the diner pot.

"Yes, I can see we're going to miss dinner," she teases. 

"We can't have that," he laughs and opens his bag. "Which is why I brought a picnic, so you can enjoy the view  _ and _ have dinner."

Hera frowns and looks around. The view of the Hinterlands at night  _ is _ lovely, with the moonlight playing on a pond far below them and the wind whispering through the grass, but it's little different from what they've been seeing the entire time. "I don't understand."

With an excited grin, Alistair lays back on the blanket he spread out. "Come lay beside me," he says, folding his hands behind his head. "This is the first clear night we've seen in weeks."

Deciding that it's better to play along than to question, she sweeps her hair over one shoulder and lies down, resting her head on his arm and drawing her cloak over them. Staring up at the stars, Alistair wore a rare smile of contentment. It made him look almost young and carefree.

_ Was he ever carefree? _ She wonders.  _ I can’t see how, with his past. And now that he’ll be king, there won’t ever be a chance for it. _

“You’re supposed to be looking at the stars,” he murmurs, his face darkening with a blush.

“I am,” she whispered, smiling at his profile. “My personal north star.” Her heart flutters at the way he smiles, as if closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly would ease his delight. “I love you,” she adds. “You know that, yes?”

He finally turns his head to look at her, still smiling warmly. “I do. Now look up there, see that constellation?”

Hera follows the line his arm makes to a group of stars. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s a dragon,” he explains. “It’s called Draconis, it’s a dragon.”

She squinted, trying to make the mass of stars into a dragon. “I...I think so?”

“Are you lying?”

“What if I  _ don’t _ see it and tell you I do?”

“Do you see those three  _ really _ bright ones? That makes up part of the body…”

Convinced there’s no such thing among the heavens, Hera listens and nods, humoring him as he explains how they all connect to make a dragon in flight. “And why is this constellation important?” she asks.

  
“It...It makes me think of you,” he says softly. “I know it’s not a raven, but it  _ is _ powerful and it flies. When I see Draconis, I think of you. You’re powerful and beautiful, and...and one day you’ll fly away from me, too.”


	13. I Never Knew It Could Be This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran asks Tabris if this is what she truly wants.

“ _ Amora, _ can we talk?”

Tabris looked up from the dagger in her hands, brow wrinkled. “Of course we can, what’s wrong?”

He squatted beside her, grimacing a little at the stitches in his side. “I wanted to be certain that what you are doing is what you want.”

Her frown deepened and she tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

“This...business of the Crows,” he said, easing to sit in front of her. “This is  _ my _ problem, you do not have to-”

“Stop right there,” she said briskly, sliding her dagger back into its sheath. “Do you remember Denerim? When we fought half the night because I didn’t want you going into the city and risking your life.”

“That was different. There was a Blight and the world was ending.”

“And you said you would storm the Black City by my side,” she reminded him, cupping his cheek and giving him a tender smile. “The archdemon was my Black City. The Crows are yours. I’m not leaving you to deal with them alone,  _ tesoro. _ ”

“Bastien-”

“Acted exactly as we anticipated.”

“ _ Amora, _ you had nightmares for three days.”

“And I’m fine now,” she lied, looking him straight in the eye.

Zevran bit off a frustrated growl. “I don’t want you to have to be fine!” he snapped. “I want you to feel safe and loved and-”

“And you will never feel any of those things unless we do this,” she says. “Zevran, after...After what happened to Nelaros, I never imagined- I never even anticipated-” Tabris broke off, taking a deep breath and twisting the gold ring she kept on her right hand. “I was going to marry a man I didn’t know, didn’t love, because it was best for everyone involved. He promised safety and security, and died because I couldn’t give him those things in return. Now I can give them to  _ you _ , and I’ll be damned by the Maker himself if I’m going to let you get hurt or killed because of a bunch of mangy Crows.”

“Kallian-”

  
“ _ Shut up _ , Zevran,” she said, her voice turning light and teasing. “I’m trying to tell you that I never knew it could be this way- excitement and love and mystery all rolled into one adventure so amazing no one will ever believe us.” Lacing her fingers through his, she laughs. “Alistair and Leliana are never going to believe it- not a single word!”


	14. I Can't Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders sends Evette a letter, explaining why he won't return to the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connected to my series Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Evette folded the letter carefully and pressed it to her heart.

_ I can’t come back, frosty, _ he’d written,  _ not even for you. _

“Evette? Is everything all right?” Connor asked, nervously switching from one foot to the other. “Has something bad happened?”

“Only that another friend of mine has joined the Grey Wardens,” she said softly, slipping Anders’ letter into her pocket. “I had hoped he would return to the Circle and help my work here.”

“Well who wants another stuffy Grey Warden hanging around?” he teased, leaning on her desk. “You’re all we can handle, anyway.”

“Am I?” Evette asks. 

Connor yelps, tugging at hands suddenly frozen to the desk. “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Is it, pup?” she asks. “Why don’t you melt the ice-  _ without _ fire- and then go do some research on healing frostbite?”

“But my hands are stuck!”

“Are they?” Evette made a  _ tsking _ sound and stood. “My goodness. You better get used to not having them available…”

“But Vette!” he cried as she walked toward the window. She could observe him from there and make certain he didn’t hurt himself- or set anything on fire again.

_ You were always more suited to Circle life, _ Anders had written.  _ You and your books and your ice. I’m not like that, and I need freedom. _

“Freedom is overrated, Anders,” she whispered, leaning against a windowsill.

_ You can’t change a Circle from the inside. I’ve tried. _

Her eyes on the twelve-year-old boy before her, Evette smiled. “Watch me.”


	15. That's What I'm Talking About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders evades more than Evette's outrage over a damaged book.

“ANDERS!”

The mage in question dove under the nearest table, interrupting the lecture Wynne was giving on the basics of healing simple wounds. He knew  _ exactly _ why a certain silver-eyed ice witch was screaming his name.

“Please, Wynne,” he begged her feet, huddling behind chairs. “Please don’t tell her I’m here.”

The older woman chuckled. “Really, Anders. You’re two years  _ older _ than her. What could you have possibly done to warrant hiding from her?”

“I might have-” 

“Anders! I see you!”

With a muttered curse, he scrambled out from under the table, half-running as he gained his feet. He could hear Evette casting a spell behind him- probably the one she liked to use to freeze people to floors or desks- and threw himself behind a shelf, barely dodging the pale blue spell.

“Shit,” he muttered under the cries of surprise and anger as the two ran through the library and skidded into the corridors. If he could make the supply room, Owain would  _ surely _ hide him.

“Stop running!” Uldred scolded. The younger mage had been going so fast that when Uldred grabbed his arm, they both swung around in a circle, knocking into Evette and sending them all tumble to the floor in a tangle of robes and limbs.

“Anders, you boar,” she muttered, backing away as fast as she could to avoid more contact than absolutely necessary.

“Come on, Vette,” he said charmingly and prostrated on the floor before her. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Enough!” Uldred snapped, climbing to his feet and trying to regain some of his dignity. “What is this about?”

Evette’s lips were pressed into a thin pale line and she shook her head. Surprised, Anders rolled onto his back and put his hands up in surrender. He’d rather take his lumps from Evette than Uldred any day, but if she wasn’t going to talk, neither was he.

“One of you had best start talking, or I’m dragging you both before the First Enchanter,” Uldred warned.

Anders glanced up at Evette, watching as her chilly demeanor turned positively glacial. “Anders was teaching me a maneuvering technique,” she lied smoothly. “As you can see, it got a bit out of hand. I apologize, Senior Enchanter. It will not happen again.”

Uldred glares at them a moment more before his shoulders relax. “See that it doesn’t, Apprentice Amell. You shouldn’t allow yourself to be influenced by roguish mages just past their harrowings,” he adds with a stern look at Anders. “Especially the kind who have only recently been released from solitary confinement.”

“My point exactly, Senior Enchanter,” Anders agrees, leaping to his feet to stand beside her. “Which is why I was...teaching her how to avoid a person.”

Narrowing his eyes, Uldred finally sighs and shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he walks away. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Anders turns to Evette and grabs her shoulders. “ _ You _ just lied to a Senior Enchanter,” he whispered. “ _ You!” _

“He was right, I  _ shouldn’t _ let you influence me,” she says with an irritated huff.

“Aw, come on, Vette,” he wheedles, following when she starts to storm off. “It’s just a book-”

“ _ Just _ a book?” she asks, whirling around. “ _ Just _ a book! Anders, you  _ destroyed _ a book of spells older than the First Enchanter!”

She pins him with those unusual silver eyes and he can feel himself deflating. “I’m sorry, Vette,” he says. “I was angry and I didn’t think-”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” she snaps. “You  _ didn’t _ think, just like you didn’t think when-”

Her words are choked off by a sob and she covers her mouth and turns away. “Maker’s breath, Vette,” he says softly, putting an arm over her shoulders. He did his best not to shiver at the deathly cold chill her body held and only partially succeeded. “What is this really about? Not some dumb book nobody’s looked at in an age.”

“Nothing,” she whispers, wiping her face as the cold radiating off her increases. “How are you, now that you’re out? Was solitary confinement as awful as they-” 

“No,” he says, distancing himself from her. All the anger and hurt from the last six months returns, just as powerful as the day he’d been locked in the dark. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Anders, what-”

  
“I said no!” Flame sparks along his fingers and he blows on them to put it out, shaking his hands to ease the unexpected heat. He didn’t want to think about the templars in the dark, the way they’d held him down. “Next time it’ll be different. I’m  _ going _ to be free someday.”


	16. Listen. No, really listen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran and Tabris break into a villa.

Zevran stopped in his tracks, the tip of his nose twitching as his eyes scanned the room.

“What is it?” Tabris asked, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Listen,” he murmured, drawing one of his daggers. 

Tabris looked around the large sitting room, examining each shadow. The estate belonged to Claudio Valisti, a high-ranking Crow Zevran was determined to assassinate before they returned to Ferelden. After three years of blood and shadows, Tabris was ready to return home for a rest.

“There isn’t anyone here,” she whispered, flattening herself against the wall just in case. “Not even a maid, Zev.”

“Listen,” he told her, holding his breath and closing his eyes.

Tabris closed her eyes and listens, but after a moment she shook her head. “I don’t-”

“No,  _ really _ listen,” he insisted, crouching to put a hand on the marble floor. “You don’t hear that?”

Frowning, she held her breath and closed her eyes, straining to hear...whatever it is.  _ Birds in the shrubs outside, _ she thought, casting about with all her willpower.  _ Water. Wind. And… _

It was barely a whisper when she finally heard it, but once she did, it was all she heard. A scrap, like a sword being dragged across the marble- and coming closer.

The sound of a soft-soled shoe slapping the floor.

The wind as someone signals.

A breath that stirs the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

“It’s a trap,” she whispered, eyes wide with horror. “Maker save us.”


	17. There's Just Something About Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hawke twins tease their sister about her relationship with Anders.

“Why  _ Anders _ ?” Carver asked, flopping into his favorite chair and putting his feet up. “He’s so…”

Hawke grinned at her brother. “Intense? Passionate? Good with his hands?”

He gave her a disgusted look. “I can do without the details, thanks. You’re loud enough.”

Hawke laughed, curling into her own chair. “There’s just something about him,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t really put my finger on it.”

“I wish you were with Fenris instead,” he muttered. “At least I’d have someone to talk to then.”

“You can go to his house,” Hawke teased. “He won’t send you away, even if he does hate your hero worship a little.”

“I do  _ not _ worship him,” Carver argued, throwing a pillow at her. “Not like Bethany does, anyway.”

As if waiting for her cue, Bethany strode into the room, the tea and cakes following her like perfume. “I know what it is,” she announced, setting her tea tray on the low table before them. “Fenris reminds you of Garret,” she told Carver, handing him a cup. “And ever since Garret joined the Grey Wardens, you’ve been clinging to Fenris as an older brother.”

Carver scowled. “I  _ do not _ cling!”

Ignoring him, Bethany turned to her sister. “And  _ you, _ ” she added with a grin at Hawke. “You’re a slut.”

“I am  _ not!” _ Hawke gasped. “Bethy, how could you say such a thing?!”

Bethany laughed like a naughty child. “All right, maybe you’re  _ not _ a slut, but-”

“Nah, she’s a slut,” Carver said around a mouthful of cake. “You saw her with Bela last night?”

Bethany shushed him with a disapproving look. “But Anders is  _ different, _ ” she continued. “He’s a mage, like us, so he understands what it’s been like for us. And he makes you do that stupid laugh you have- the one where you can’t breathe and just squawk.”

Hawke ducks her head to hide her smile from the twins. “Does he?” she mumbled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar,” Carver laughed. “He’s the first person to make you laugh like that since Father.”


	18. Secrets? I Love Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian tells the Inquisitor that she might want to discuss what's on her mind.

“It’s abysmally cold out here, my dear.”

Grace looked over her shoulder to see Dorian standing there, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak and carrying a second. With a small smile, she lifted her hair, letting him settle it on her shoulders with his typical flare. It smelled of incense and Dorian’s personal cologne- a sharp scent mingling woodsy notes with something softer and undefinable.

“Does someone need something?” she asked, wrapping herself tightly.

“Only you and this cloak,” he said, standing beside and looking out over the snow-covered hills of Emprise du Lion. “You seem...distracted in the wake of your victory. Suledin Keep is a remarkable base of operations.”

She turned her eyes back to the view. “I’ve got things on my mind,” she said softly. 

“Personal things?” he wheedled. 

She smiled in spite of herself in answer to his mischievous grin. “Why, yes,  _ personal _ things,” she giggled. “I used to be more than just the Inquisitor- or rather, I was something  _ other _ than the Inquisitor.”

Dorian arched a brow. “My dear, I don’t think anyone has ever been  _ just _ an Inquisitor. Would you like to discuss it?”

Grace bit her lip, thinking. “It’s...it’s deeply personal, Dorian,” she explains. “Something I don’t want anyone else to know.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “ _ Secrets? _ I love secrets. I wave at them as they flutter out of my mouth and into  _ everyone’s  _ ears.”

She threw her head back, laughing into the night. “Perhaps I’ll just keep it to myself a while longer, then.”

He laughed with her, the small wrinkles at the side of his eyes deepening for just a moment. “Grace, you ninny,” he said fondly. “You can always talk to me,” he adds, his expression shifting into concern. “You do know that, don’t you? You’re my friend, and I would never-”

“It’s not that,” she tells him. “It’s just...I don’t know what to do about it, is all. And I’m not sure if talking about it will help.”

“Well then come back inside,” he says, swirling his cloak dramatically as he points to the door. “It’s freezing out here, and unless you’re going to be my personal bed-warmer we should thaw before turning in.”


	19. Yes, I admit it, you were right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evette ignores Jowan's advice in her excitement.

“Evette, you really shouldn’t get your hopes-”

“I know what I’m doing, Jowan,” Evette assured him. “This is what I’ve been waiting for! They’re coming for me tonight!”

Jowan frowned, closing his book. “Tonight? How do you know?”

Evette gave him a sly grin, shoving her unruly hair over her shoulder. “Cullen warned me that someone was having a harrowing tonight- it  _ has  _ to be me.”

“You don’t know that, it could be me- or any of the apprentices.”

“It isn’t,” she said, scooping up her hair and pinning it carelessly atop her head. “It’s me. I can feel it.”

Four templars entered the apprentices’ quarters, and Evette leaped to her feet. “Amell,” Greagoir said, nodding to her. “Come with me.”

“Yes, Greagoir,” she said excitedly, spying Cullen behind him.

Before she could walk away, Jowan grabbed her hand. “Vette,  _ please _ be careful,” he said. “They won’t let me in to watch, but they’re going to be standing over you with their swords drawn- even Rutherford. Everyone knows they’ll kill you without a thought.”

Her cheeks glowed pink at the mention of his name. “Jowan, it’s going to be  _ fine, _ ” she promised. “Cullen wouldn’t hurt me.”

“A few steamy kisses in the chapel won’t stop him if he thinks you’re possessed!” he argued in a rushed whisper. “Maker’s breath, Vette, you’ve made some awful choices, but-”

“Me?” she asked, ripping her hand out of his. “You’re the one who said having a templar up my skirts could be an advantage!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually thaw out enough for anything to happen, though! You’ve turned into a fool for him!”

“Have I?” Evette’s silver eyes were sharp as silverite. “Yes, I suppose you’re right- no, don’t argue, I’ll admit it,” she said when it looked like he wanted to say something. “But I’m the one who’s going to their harrowing, and tomorrow my life will be different.”

Greagoir called her name again, his irritation beginning to show in the small tick in his cheek.

“Coming, ser!” she said, giving Jowan one last glare.

Surrounded by templars, she passed Anders, lounging against a statue flirting with a pretty girl. “Good luck, Frosty,” he said, winking. “You’re going to need it.”

Evette winked at him. "I don't need luck."


	20. You could talk about it, you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus tries to reconnect with his sister when she returns from Ferelden.

So much of his sister has changed. Before coming to Ravenloft, she was effervescent, she was carefree. Strahd and his ridiculously tragic story had been the beginning of that change, and were he not already dead and burned Zeus would strip the flesh from his bones for it. 

Strahd, and the events leading to his death, had given his sister far more depth than someone so lovely deserved. 

In another life, Zeus would gladly have risked everything to be the hero, but when they realized that only Hera- the one woman whose love went deeper than Strahd’s grief and hatred- could get close enough to deliver the killing blow, he’d been furious. That it had been the insufferable fire mage she was fucking who figured it out made the whole situation far worse.

But Zeus had stood by her during the first year of her reign, supported her publicly and spied for her privately when needed. At the end of the day, all he’d ever wanted was to be beside her. It was simply their way.

Then she disappeared and returned years later a completely different woman.

It broke his heart to look at her now, the scar bisecting her eyebrow ruining the perfection he adored; to see those three fine lines form between her brows when she was concerned with something deeper than the color of her dress for the day.

“You seem particularly preoccupied, brother.”

Zeus shook himself, laughing at being caught staring while she worked at her desk. “Only with your beauty, my love.”

Hera grinned, lifting a steaming cup of tea- not wine, as it once would have been- to her lips. “Is something bothering you, dearest?”

“I was thinking of your time away,” he ventured.

Her open, curious expression shuttered closed and she placed her cup on its saucer with a sharp  _ click. _ The three lines appeared and she stood, putting her back to him and moving to the window with a soft swish of silk. “I see. What of it?”

_ I hate Alistair Theirin, _ Zeus thought for the thousandth time since her return.  _ I hate that he taught you how to love again and then broke your heart. I hate that he sent back a broken woman who no longer loves me more than anyone else. _

_ Most of all, I hate that he’s changed you. _

“You could talk about it, you know,” he said softly, getting to his feet and joining her at the window. He was careful not to touch her and chose to lean against the window ledge. “We’ve always talked about things.”

Gods damn him to a thousand deaths, the tears that filled her eyes made him want to rip his own heart out for her. “I don’t know how to explain it,” she said softly, bowing her head.

Gently, he tucked her hair behind her ear and lifted her chin. “Please,” he pleaded, hating the way it sounded, “talk to me. I can’t bear to see you in so much pain, carrying it alone. Let me carry some for you.”


	21. Change is annoyingly difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera prepares her brother for his coronation

Hera smiled- a real smile that reached all the way inside her brother to tug at his heart- and settled the heavy feathered cape over his shoulders. “You did this for me once,” she said, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“Did I?” he asked loftily, arching a brow. “I don’t remember dressing you for your coronation in a  _ used _ cape.”

Her soft chuckle slid over his shoulder to become a warm breath on his cheek. “Call it a tradition, Your Radiance,” she teased.

Finally, Zeus would take his rightful place on the throne, the King to his twin’s Queen. It was not so unusual an arrangement- they’d heard of other kingdoms choosing not to split the sovereignty of their realms in favor of joint rulership. They would rule together, as one mind, the way it should have been from the beginning.  _ I am only sorry it took me so long to see it, _ he thinks.

“Hera, I-”

“Will be a lovely king,” she interrupted, brushing his hair back and twining parts of it into intricate little braids. “And I will no longer bear the burden alone.” Her hands pause and her eyes raise from her work to meet his again. “You’re sure this is what you want? You fought so hard before...”

“It is how it should always have been,” he said with a nod. “You tried to tell me in the beginning.”

“It’s a big change,” she warns.

He sighed dramatically, dropping his shoulders and leaning his head back like a petulant child. “Change is annoyingly difficult,” he admits to the ceiling. “But I suppose I am finally old enough to accept that it is the only guarantee in life. I- Your absence made me realize so much; I understand, now, what it is to lead alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am certain that you'll see this again later.


	22. We could have a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabris and Isabela talk about Zevran

Tabris looked out over the water surrounding them for miles. She hadn’t been able to sleep since they sailed out of Antiva for fear of Crows, even though both Zevran and Captain Isabela had been certain they were safe.

Dawn started off as a hazy purple before fading into pink and gold, the change of color prompting a change of the ship’s crew as well. She had watched them change shifts several times since rising from the narrow berth she shared with Zevran; watching them go now made part of her wish she could go back to her own bed so easily. 

“Three days at sea puts us far enough from Antiva that even a Crow couldn’t find his way onto my ship.”

Tabris turned her head, watching the devastatingly beautiful captain approach. “I just worry for him,” she said, shrugging and returning her eyes to the horizon.

“I know,” Isabela said, her voice softening. “I never thought Zev had it in him.”

“Had what?”

“ _ Commitment _ , kitten,” she laughed, turning her back on the view to lean against the railing. “The Zevran I knew was a fair-weather love. Oh, he made you feel like the only person in the world, so long as you were right in front of him.” She raised a dark eyebrow. “But you’re different.”

Tabris’ heart swelled, hearing it from someone who had clearly known Zevran a long time. “He’s different, too,” she said softly, lowering her eyes so that her lashes were dark smudges on her cheeks. “We’ve somehow changed each other into someone worth keeping,” she added.

“But have you changed enough?” Isabela asked. “Life will throw you about like a ship in a storm.”

Someone called out Zevran’s name in greeting and Tabris turned to see him lift a hand to wave as he crossed the deck. “Enough,” she said firmly. “Enough that we could have a chance at a life.”


	23. You Can't Give More Than Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo worries about Grace and her connection to the Inquisition.

“Gracie, I’m worried about you,” Leo said, watching her pack for yet another excursion. “Are you sure you’re not in over your head?”

“You’re one to talk,” she chuckled, sitting on the bed beside him. “You’re  _ always _ getting in over your head.”

“But this Inquisition...is this something you want?”

Grace thought back to the ruined temple, the taste of electricity and ash on the air, the darkness and pain she’d woken up to. She thought of Haven, and how everyone had looked at her with pride when they’d managed to close the breach.

Of the snow-covered mountains, where they had all come together to offer up hope and faith.

“I think this passed what I wanted when papa sent me to the temple,” she answered softly, looking down at her hands. 

Leo’s warm brown arms wrapped around her and she leaned into the embrace, longing for some kind of comfort that always seemed so far away. “I worry about you, darling,” he murmured. “I’m afraid of what you’ll be willing to give.”

She smiled, lifting her head to press a kiss against his throat. “And what is that?”

“Everything,” he said, breath catching. “Promise you won’t- ahh, Maker,” he sighed as her lips traveled to his ear.

“Promise what?” she whispered.

“You won’t do something stupid and get yourself killed,” he pleaded, gathering his composure and holding her at arms’ length. “Don’t give them everything, save some for me.”

Grace shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Leo, I can’t make that sort of promise.” When she looked up at him, her blue eyes glistened with tears. “I have to give them all I can.”

  
Pulling her close, Leo dipped his head to kiss her.  _ You can’t give more than yourself, _ he thought as their kiss deepened.  _ That’s how you are. But it terrifies me. _


	24. Patience...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Grace argue about their engagement.

“Grace, I’ve  _ waited! _ ” he shouts, fisting his hands in his hair. “I’ve waited  _ years _ for you to announce our engagement- why are you stalling?” he asks. The fight drains out of him slowly, his shoulders slumping as his gaze scalds her. “Is there someone else?”

“What?”

Silently, Leo walks out onto the balcony, not bothering with a coat against the snow. Grace follows, wrapping her arms around herself. From here, she can see the light on in Cullen’s office and pictures him hunched over his desk, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up. It was an adorable image, until her mind added in the shadows under his eyes, the tremor of his hand that was a sure sign of his withdrawals becoming worse.

“It’s Blackwall, isn’t it?”

Shocked laughter bursts out of her, making her slap a hand over her mouth to stifle it. “ _ Blackwall _ ?” she wheezes. “Big, fatherly, toymaker?”

Leo bows his head under her disbelief. “He’s exciting- you like that. He’d be a good father to the children you’d give him. He adores you, Grace.”

“Not the way you mean,” she says, coming closer and putting a hand on his back. “I admire and like him, of course- he’s a good man, a good friend. But Leo, I’m not in love with him.”

“Then why wait?” he asks, turning haunted brown eyes on her. “We’ve been engaged since you were eighteen. I’ve been ready to shout it from the rooftops since the moment you said yes. Why won’t you let me?”

“I’m not ready,” she repeats for the thousandth time. “Leo, with the Inquisition…”

He looked like a man in agony, his beautiful features twisted into heartache and jealousy of the unknown. Grace could heal him with a word, she knew; turning Leo from lover to fiance would raise him in the eyes of the Inquisition, would make him a permanent fixture in the dangerous world she now inhabited.

“I’m so afraid you’ll be hurt,” she whispers, brushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me and the Inquisition.”

When he said nothing, she pressed her mouth to his in a kiss, feeling him begin to relax as he returned it with growing passion. When they parted, he pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep breath. The scent of cedar filled her senses and set her heart racing. 

“Patience...is not something I’m known for,” he says slowly, drawing her as close to him as possible. “But for you, I’d wait a lifetime.”

“Thank you, Leo,” she whispered.


	25. I Could Really Eat Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching Hawke duel the Arishok without interfering is the hardest thing Anders has ever done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there is some gore and blood

Anders gripped Isabela’s arm hard enough to bruise, his entire body trembling as he watched Hawke race around the Arishok, draining another healing potion and desperate to stay ahead of him. “If she dies…” he growled.

Isabela’s eyes were on Hawke as well, full of uncertainty and fear. “If she dies, I’ll let them have me,” she said softly. “I won’t put up a fight.”

Anders nodded, his jaw clenched. Hawke was fast, her daggers flashing like stars in her hands as she fainted and deflected the qunari’s greatsword. It was enormous, larger than the sword Fenris carried, but the equally massive Arishok swung it like it weighed nothing.

“No!” he cried, his heart stopping when Hawke was impaled, her body being lifted still on the blade as if she, too, weighed nothing. Fenris grabbed him before he could run to her, covering his mouth as he screamed with her. The Arishok slung his blade, throwing her across the room and into a marble pillar, before turning to Isabela.

Grief and rage boiled his blood and set his teeth on edge as he watched Hawke’s blood pool around her. “You-”

“Don’t,” Fenris warned, stopping the spell Anders clutched in his fists. “She knew what she was doing.”

No one else spoke as the Arishok faced them. His expression was impassive; there was no trace of victory or pride. Instead, Anders thought he saw something like regret in his face. His heart raced

“It is a waste to kill one who would do so well in the Qun,” the Arishok said, answering the unasked question.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, then.”

She was on her feet, but barely. Blood poured from a hole in her armor, but she put a healing potion between her teeth, spitting out the cork and draining the bottle. The blood slowed, then stopped- Anders couldn’t resist the slightest of spells while everyone was distracted, giving her a small boost in energy.

The Arishok raised his sword again, shaking his head, and turned back to her. “Serrah Hawke,” he said slowly. “You-”

Her dagger flew threw the air, planting itself hilt-deep in his throat. Isabela shouted with joy, jumping up and down and cheering. The Arishok sank to his knees, looking at Hawke as she limped toward him.

“I said you couldn’t have her,” Hawke said, pulling her dagger out. Blood bubbled out of the wound and frothed on his lips- it didn’t take a healer to know it was a mortal wound. Anders and Fenris watched in silence as she crossed her blades in front of him and jerked her arms, slicing so deeply into his neck that the horned head flopped back and blood spurted over her.

Hawke looked up, gave Anders a cheerful smile and a small salute before collapsing to the floor. Released from the rules of the duel, Anders ran over, a healing spell already building in his hands as he slipped through the blood and hit his knees beside her.

“Hawke!” he breathed. “Don’t you die on me,” he muttered.

Wincing, she forced out a chuckle. “I don’t think dying is on the schedule,” she gasped, her back arching as his spell began to take effect. “I could really eat something, though.”


	26. You Keep Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hawke approaches Skyhold, she finds herself worrying more about Anders than what danger she's walking into.

The Frostback Mountains were named correctly, Hawke realized, rubbing her hands together to try and generate some heat. Rainesfare wasn’t that far from Skyhold, but the change in climate made it feel as if the Bannorn was a world away.

As if  _ Anders _ was a world away.

She’d hesitated to answer Varric’s letter; she hadn’t wanted to leave Anders or the relative safety they’d found for a short time. It was Anders who had finally told her to go, telling her that the world was cracked open and bleeding, that only the Champion of Kirkwall could help. The added threat of Corypheus had meant that he had to stay in hiding, pretending to be a distant cousin of an innkeeper who had promised to shelter him.

She lifted her head, shaking off memories of the man she loved, and checked the view against the map she carried. The snow-covered mountains looked as lonely and cold as she felt, and she reached up to clasp the locket around her neck.

_ “Is that safe?” he asked, nodding to the locket in her hand. “Do you really want something so...concrete...connecting us?” _

_ Hawke laughed and leaned over, pressing her lips to his. “If anyone is close enough to see what’s inside, I’ll just punch them,” she laughed, “right in the nose.” _

She hadn’t tried to explain how much she needed a piece of him with her. A small portrait and a lock of hair weren’t enough to sate the desperate desire to have his warmth beside her, the wind was a lonely sound without his laughter to accompany it. 

Skyhold appeared suddenly- there was a bend in the road and then suddenly there was a fortress. It was everything Varric had said it would be, and more; for once the scribbler had undersold something. Seeing it in the flesh, sparkling with snow in the dying light, made a weight settle in her stomach.

_ “What if I never see you again?” Anders’ hands shook as he wound his favorite scarf around her neck. _

_ The worry in his eyes had squeezed her heart, but she smiled and pressed a hand to his cheek. “I’ll always find a way home to you.” _

There was something ominous about Skyhold. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it gave her a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.

“I wish you were here, my love,” she whispered, adjusting the scarf around her neck. “But at least I have a piece of you to keep me warm.”


	27. Can You Wait For Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Hawke discuss the summons from Varric.

Anders pulled away from her, unable to hide the despair on his face. “No,” he said flatly, shaking his head. “You can’t just ignore the problem, Hawke. You have to go.”

Hawke grabbed his hand, gently pulling him back to her. “Anders, I promised to stay by your side,” she reminded him, kissing his knuckles. “Varric said-”

“Varric’s gotten you into enough trouble to last a lifetime,” he said sadly. “And this is just another story he’ll tell in a tavern. I wish I could tell you to say no, that you don’t have to be the one to always save the world.”

Hawke laughed and gave him a smile that melted his insides. “I agree with you there,” she said, brushing hair out of his eyes. “And I wouldn’t be saving the world,” she added. “This Inquisitor Trevelyan is the hero of this story. But... Corypheus is my responsibility.”

Something wasn’t right, Anders felt that if he let her go now he’d never see her again. But he understood how she felt- if she didn’t go, and something happened to Varric, she’d never forgive herself. “I don’t like it,” he admitted. “I say we should let the Wardens-”

“The Wardens failed, Anders,” she reminded him gently. “And now he’s using them against themselves.” With a sigh, she pressed her forehead to his. “But I don’t want to go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You don’t have to, we can both go.” He pulled away again and began pacing. “The world is cracked open and bleeding. Maybe I can help-”

“No,” she said. Her voice cracked when she said it, but he could hear the finality in the word. “Not after what he did to you the first time. I won’t risk you, Anders.”

“And I’m supposed to risk you?” he said, looking down at her. “I’m supposed to just sit and wait while you go risking your bloody neck for a bunch of people who won’t give a damn if you live or die?”  _ She has to go, I know it, _ he thought, looking down at the woman he loved more than life itself.  _ But I’m so afraid. _

“Yes,” she said simply, shrugging. “But I’ll come back- I always do, even the Deep Roads can’t stop me. Can you wait for me?” she asked, looking down at her hands. “ _ Will _ you?”

Hands on his hips, he glared at her for a moment, his insides twisting into painful knots. If he said yes- she might not come back. He wished he could put his finger on it, but something about this conversation felt so...final. Like an ending of some kind. 

What would he do without her?


	28. Enough. I heard enough.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair tries talking out a problem with Zevran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a possible plot line for The Wrong Warden- as it right now, I don't have a set ending, but several possibilities. If you like this, I might flesh out this idea a little more.

Zevran threw himself on a bench in the shade. “You, my friend, are in a troublesome situation.”

Alistair scowled at him, pacing the length of one of the garden’s many private bowers. “I know. What should I do?”

“Oh no,” the elf chuckled, throwing his hands up for mercy. “I am not the one to ask. You will not take my advice, anyway.”   
  


“Hmm, you’re probably right,” Alistair muttered, running a hand over his face. “In Ferelden, I have a kingdom and a queen-”

“And here in Ravenloft, there is a queen who  _ actually _ loves you and wants you to rule beside her.”

Alistair scowls at him. “Anora lov- well, she doesn’t  _ hate _ me.”

“It is not love, my friend. Not like my Tabris and I share.”

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “When I married Anora, I thought…” Alistair trails off when he hears Zevran curse, then turns to see Hera standing at the far side of the small clearing. “Raven,” he whispered, suddenly sick to his stomach. “Um...how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” she said quietly. Everything around her went very still, as if even the breeze wouldn’t dare to disturb a single black hair on her head. She swallowed hard, one trembling hand on her stomach, and he wondered if she felt sick, too. “I heard enough.”

Zevran leaped to his feet. “ _ Bella- _ ”

“Don’t,” she said, waving her hand at him. Her eyes were two large pools of darkness in her pale face, her lips a thin red line of displeasure. “Don’t make excuses.”

Without another word, she turned and ran, her dark skirts trailing behind her. Alistair started to follow, but froze in horror as the hedges suddenly grew across the only two openings to the bower. “Hera!” he shouted through the new growth. “Hera come back!”


	29. I'm Doing This For you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hera goes missing again, Zeus follows her to the Blood on the Vine Tavern.

Zeus stares at the Duke in utter confusion. “Forgive me, Dunkle,” he says, forgetting to add his typical grin when using his uncle’s nickname. “ _ Where _ did you say she was?”

It was the Duke who grinned this time. “Dear nephew, I did not stutter. You heard me correctly.”

Zeus rubbed his chin, trying to wrap his mind around his sister’s newest madness. “Barovia Village…” he mused. “Did she say why?”

The Duke shook his head. “Only that she wanted to relive the old days, my prince. She left only a short time ago, I am sure you could catch up with her.”

Zeus’ grin finally appeared, spreading slowly as a plan formed. “Well, Dunkle, she cannot do that alone!”

Barovia Village is several days’ ride from Castle Ravenloft, but when one has griffons, distance makes little difference. Splendidly dressed in red and black, Zeus and his favorite winged beast, Faustus, take to the sky in search of their wandering queen.

_ It seems so long since we stumbled through the forest, _ he thinks as they soar through the night sky.  _ I had hoped she’d have found a way to put Strahd and that foolish human in Ferelden behind her and move on for good. If we have to walk across Ravenloft again to defeat her demons, I will do so naked and unarmed. _

The sun has dipped far below the horizon when he finally arrives in Barovia Village. It looks the same as it always has- fog blurring the edges of the buildings, the market abandoned for squares of light along side streets, mud puddles lying in wait for an unassuming silk shoe. 

And in the center of it all, a beacon of light and warmth: the Blood on the Vine Tavern and Inn.

Zeus doesn’t need to close his eyes to see a shadowed version of himself and his twin picking their way through the mud to the tavern on a dark and stormy night. It’s a popular tale told in these parts: lost prince and princess stumble into the tavern, soaked to the bone and completely unaware that one of them would become the savior of the plane. The sign over the door is carved and lit by magic so that all can see, the door is now heavy and beautifully carved, and within, he will find a richly appointed tavern run by a family of Vistani that has invested in their business and done well.

It is a far cry from the sagging, drafty tavern with threadbare sheets where they truly began their adventure- Zeus would know, having rewarded the owners himself. 

The windows are open to let in the cool night air and music pours from it, filling the dark with the sounds of flute, fiddles, and a tambourine.  _ Zoltan and his band are playing tonight, _ he thinks, signaling for Faustus to roost where he likes and approaching the door.  _ That is good, he will not let her become morose.  _

He opens the door with a lazy wave his hand, not even bothering to voice the magical command. Light, music, and the scent of roasting meat and ale spills out and puddles around his shoes. He wades into the crowd, exchanging a nod with Arik the barkeep before breaking through the edge of the crowd.

_ Gods, she’s lovely, _ he thinks, his heart tightening at the sight of his sister. Dressed in red and black silk, the wide panniers Strahd’s court had favored swinging as she dances with a handsome, dark haired Vistani man. It’s a slow, sensual song, perfectly suited to the man’s dark looks and Hera’s mythical grace and beauty.

Zeus almost turns, not wanting to impose on what seems to be a rather enjoyable evening for her, when she calls out to him.

“Zeus!” she cries, laughing and running to his side. “However did you find me? It was the Duke, wasn’t it?” she says, smoothing his lapels and smiling up at him. “You remembered the red.”

“Of course I did, my love,” he says, grabbing one of her hands and kissing the back. “When Dear Dunkle told me where you’d gone, I simply had to follow.”

“Zoltan is rare form tonight,” she says, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Dance with me, brother.”

“Oh Hera,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t like these peasant rills, you know that.”

“They make my heart race,” she wheedles, giving him a teasing pout. “Dance with me, or I’ll have to send for Jamison and his brother, and-”

“Powers forbid,” he grumbled. “Not  _ those _ two, please. Zoltan, play something civilized,” he tells the lead musician.

“A  csárdás, my lord?” Zoltan laughs.

“The slow one,” Zeus sighs.

Hera laughs at her brother. “No, the quick one!”

“Hera, I loathe the quick one,” Zeus reminds her as the music begins.

“I  _ love _ the quick one,” she laughs, lifting her skirts and circling him in time with the music. 

His heart lifts at her smile. It’s the sort of smile she had before they came to Ravenloft- free, bright, and true. To encourage her teasing, he makes a distasteful face and sighs. “Fine, I’m doing this for you, but you’re going to owe me a favor later.”

  
She laughs, and he doesn’t even bother to listen to her reply.  _ If this is what it takes to get my sister back, the way she was, then I will play the curmudgeon, _ he thinks, hiding his own smile beneath a sour face. 


	30. I'm With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Circle in Ferelden falls, Evette and Connor put their lives on the line.

Evette heard the Templars coming long before she saw their shadows on the wall. Their heavy steel boots made an awful rattle on the stone floor. The Circle of Magi in Ferelden had fallen and the war that had been simmering for years was finally here. Evette had been teaching when Connor had burst into the room and hurried them all down into the labyrinthian dungeon below the Tower. 

Mages and Templars alike were dying all around them, far too similar to the horror Uldred and his followers had unleashed a lifetime ago. 

“This is it, Connor,” she whispered. “Are you ready?”

“We don’t have much choice,” he whispered back, glancing at the students behind him. “Kids, stay back.”

“Get into that boat,” she told them, pointing to a rowboat barely big enough for two, let alone two adults and five apprentices ranging from seven to twelve years of age. “Get as low as you can.”

They did as she instructed, fear stamped on their faces as clear as a birthmark. With a wave of her hand, the boat shuddered across the pebbled landing and slid into the water with a small splash. “Kiran, take care of them,” she called softly.

A blonde head popped over the side, nodding silently as the boat drifted away.

With a deep breath, Evette turned to Connor. “My sweet Pup,” she said, cupping his cheek. “So young.”

He smiled sadly as a tear froze on her cheek. “Don’t think you can make me go with them,” he said, his thumb flicking away the ice crystal. “I’m with you, you know that.”

“Our death could be coming down those stairs,” she told him. “I love you, Pup.”

“Don’t say that, Vette. It sounds too much like goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Connor and Evette. I want to write every second of their lives.


	31. Scared? Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran might be afraid to fly.
> 
> Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I intended to do something spooky and fitting for Halloween, but last week this came to me and wouldn't let me go. I hope you like it!

With a practiced, graceful motion, Hera practically leaps into the saddle. Trying very hard not to laugh at the way Alistair scrabbles his way up, she’s very glad she paired him with Honor, whose sweet and patient disposition made her perfect for first-time flyers. 

“Zev?” she says, reaching down to stroke Cassiel’s neck. “You  _ did _ intend to come, didn’t you?”

Zevran pats Balder’s head nervously, and the griffon chirps at him with impatience. “Ah... _ si, amora, _ ” Zevran says, sounding more uncertain the closer he gets to the creature. “I want to come.”

Zeus- already in the saddle- sidles up beside her, the bells on Faustus’ harness jingling cheerfully. “I never thought I’d live to see it, my love,” he teases her. “You’ve found yourself a coward.”

Hera gasps and smacks his arm with her glove. “He is not!”

Zeus sends Zevran a cool grin, his fangs showing slightly. “And yet he hesitates.”

“Put your fangs away and be quiet,” she scolds.

Alistair laughs and leans forward in his saddle, the belts over his torso stopping it from being a casual, arrogant pose and leaving him hanging half-bent and awkward. “You aren’t scared, are you?”

Zevran’s eyes go wide and he whirls on his friend. “_Scared_?” he scoffs. “_Me?_ _Amora, _these two do not know me very well,” he says to her with a sniff. 

“I know, darling,” Hera croons, winking at Alistair. “But you can’t show them how courageous you are if you stay on the ground. And Zeus will never let you live it down.”

“And I’m an immortal with a perfect memory,” Zeus chuckles.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Hera muses. “My Zevran would never back down from something like this. He would remind himself that he’s a Hero of the Blight and that a simple thing as flying is no great feat for someone like that.”

“You are correct,  _ amora.” _ Bolstered, Zevran approaches Baldur with new confidence. “Well, my feathered friend, we should get along just fine,” he tells the griffon as he jumps onto the mounting block. “I, too, once had wings. I was a Crow, you see…”

Hera rolls her eyes and glances at Alistair, who gives her an amused grin and tips an imaginary hat to her. Things between them weren’t fixed- she wasn’t sure they ever truly would be- but for a moment, it almost felt as if they were back in Ostagar, before the world cracked open and bled, when she was just a woman flirting with a young man.

“Lift,” she said softly to Cassiel.

The griffons unfold their wings, heads lifting to the sky as their wings make storm clouds of dust as they lift themselves into the air. As always, Hera’s heart flutters in excitement. She hears Alistair’s cry of delight and Zevran’s of surprise and knows they must feel it, too. The power, the freedom of flight and the knowledge that it’s a creature of magic and mystery that allows them to ride the clouds.

Looking over at Alistair, Hera’s heart feels light and free- much like it had when she and Alistair began their courtship so long ago.

_ Maybe there’s a future for us, after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! I've really enjoyed Fictober this year. I learned a lot about my characters, their history, and how they deal with the aftermath of their long fics (some of which aren't even published yet!) I hope you've enjoyed these as much as I have!


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